Some things in life

Are strange to behold

Just like in the story

You're about to be told

Of a Witch named Salem

Who welcomed her dower

She saw the great beauty

That came from her power

She brewed great potions

For generous prices

With a basket of verdure

And her garden of spices

Her black cat purred loudly

As he walked beside her

While she gathered up herbs

For a black-magic cider

When People saw smoke

From her chimney rise

She was open for business

And there to advise

If the village had troubles

It's to her they would go

For elixirs and spells

Only she would know

Her small shack was littered

With trinkets and charms

Some ward against evil

Some protect against harm

She smelled of sweet incense

Like Sage, thyme, and myrrh

From stirring her cauldron

Mixing curses and cures

And when the moon rose

A large silver pearl

She'd dance underneath it

As the night would unfurl

As it grew later

Grew quiet and still

She moved through the trees

Embracing the chill

And on clear evenings

When the clock ticked midnight

She'd hop on her broom

For a spell-caster's flight